the bazaar

We don't get to go every year. Seems like our November weekends are particularly crazy... marching band, boy scouts and work. But this year, the timing was right and I was thrilled that I had half of an empty square on my calendar... and that it lined right up with my Mom's church bazaar. She works so hard every year... starting the day after Christmas when she hits the craft stores in search of clearance, and ending in a heap when bazaar day is done. How I love to browse those long tables and admire the handiwork of the church ladies... and I love that with a glance... I know which items were made by my Mom's own hands.
But we don't necessarily go to shop. The kids & I go to work. In the kitchen. Because not only does my Mom organize the front tables, she & Bob also put on a five star lunch! Chicken salad, taco soup, meatball subs... a few slices of tropical carrot cake! My job is to make the sandwiches... and scoop out the chicken salad to top off a salad. Laura works the counter, making and serving up the coffee and filling the orders as quickly as they come in. And Camden? He is the heart breaker. His job is to bus the tables... and he is good. So good, in fact, that the church ladies nearly swoon. And practically throw one dollar bills at him! Oh yes, that boy made over twelve dollars in tips!

Bazaar day is a day I love. Lending my own hands to something so near and dear to my Mom's heart, and being a part of her world. And most years I go away from it with tears in my pocket. Don't worry... they are tears glistening with joy and with gratitude. You see... these people... they appreciate my Mom & Bob. They see their hard work and know that these are two special people. A church is not ever just one person, or a few... it is about all of the hands that serve and worship Jesus. And my parents make sure they do their part and give all they can... and probably a little more. When the church members figure out who I am, they go on and on. About how much my parents do, and what a difference they make. And so my eyes tear up. Because while I hoped and prayed for their faith, I never quite thought to dream of this for them... and it is as much a gift to me as it is for their church. And I am ever thankful that God's dreams reach so much farther than mine.

searching for the season

There is no company coming. There is no food to prepare... besides the Congo Squares, which will only take an hour. All I am expected to do is show up... and really, that is okay. But it is just one week away... and this girl is desperately searching for Thanksgiving. I have stepped forward with a thankful heart, as I do most days. I have decked out my house in all sorts of fall splendor. I have made lists of the blessings He has bestowed on me, and still... I feel like I am missing something. Even the cat seems to have more holiday spirit than me... and it leaves me feeling all muddled inside.
I suppose I am missing the trees and the colors. The green palms are swaying, and many are already adorned with white twinkling lights. There is not a stitch of fall left in the stores... or even a stray orange sprinkle. I long to sit in the open arms of fall... but in my busyness, have I forgotten how to rest? I have been going full-steam ahead for weeks now... just placing one foot in front of the other... trying to make it through. But while my feet are running, my heart seems to be lagging behind... and I realize I just need to slow down if I am to enjoy anything at all. My heart need not rush trying to catch up with the world and dive right on into Christmas.
Perhaps there is too much pressure... to feel. Shouldn't it be enough to play with my family the day before Thanksgiving, and mix up those Congo Squares, and maybe a batch of blessings mix? To snuggle up on the couch and wait for those magnificent balloons to fly? To join my parents and share a holiday meal, with God in the midst of it all?
As I lay out these plans... I wonder why I am searching for something I already have. And today... instead of slogging through my blessings and checking them off like a grocery list, I will choose to splash in them.

the readers

They have always loved books.
Always.
Laura was an early reader. Three months into kindergarten I brought home a few learn-to-read books to practice with her... thinking that it would be a good start. She was thrilled... and proceeded to sit right down and read every word. The first time through. And there has been no stopping her since. My daughter would rather read a book then do anything else. If you see her without a book in tow, please let me know... because there is likely to be something really wrong!
Camden started slowly. He wasn't too interested in the words... or even the letters. He just really loved the books themselves. He would lay on the floor for hours (yes, hours... even at two and three years old!) amidst a shelf's worth of books, turning page after page. In first grade he was still struggling...and I truly believe that if not for his love of books themselves, he might have given up on reading. But that summer... someone gave him a stack of Garfield comic books. I will never forget the day... we were driving along and a shout of glee-filled laughter filtered up to the front. What are you doing back there? And he replied... I'm reading. And I could not stop those tears from falling.
Saturday morning we were making our way to Gramma's... and Laura had her nose in her current book. Camden was just watching the world fly by as we closed the distance between home and Gramma's. Looking up for a moment, she noticed that he wasn't really doing anything. No video game. No book. And she said I have another book with me if you want to read it. Igiggled to myself... not surprised at all! She went on to explain the plot and added in that she thought he would enjoy it.
And so... those readers of mine... they read.

I love to seek the beauty in the ordinary... and I love Tuesdays at Chatting at the Sky!

helping hands start with h

Two H's.
Six hands helping her two.
And a lot of fun.



Every year my Mom makes a hundred (or so!) cheese balls for the church bazaar... along with a ton of other fantastic goodies! This year...she planned on mixing up the cheese balls on a day when I was off of work, and school was out. So... on a breezy Monday morning, Laura, Cam & I set out to lend our helping hands.
She was all set up to start... and when we arrived she sat down with Laura & Cam to explain their jobs. Doubling recipes. Measuring spices. Using the big knife... and the food processor. Laura & Cam loved being in the kitchen... and having some independence. I... was nervous. That our "help" would actually be not-so-helpful and the job would take twice as long to do with so many hands. Getting in the way, rather than speeding up the job. But there was no need to worry. We laughed. We worked. We played... and we finished hours earlier than if my Mom had done it all on her own.
I really hope my kids remember this day. I hope they tuck this memory into their hearts... and smile whenever they come across a cheese ball. I hope that someday... they will have the chance to work in the kitchen with their own grandkids... and that they will show the same patience that their Gramma showed them. Because working together... hand in hand with your family... is certainly a memory worth cherishing.

Happy A to Z Monday!